


A Duty To Your Family

by Zahri



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, No really I promise Miles will be OK, Piotr won't be, Warning: child injury, suffocation but the baby survives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zahri/pseuds/Zahri
Summary: “But my firstborn will live. I will not fail him. (Again).” Piotr does something that Aral cannot forgive.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	A Duty To Your Family

**Author's Note:**

> A general heads up and warning: This does contain descriptions of injury to a baby Miles, being cot suffocation. He lives through it. If 'Miles narrowly escapes being a SIDS statistic' is not something you need to read today, please skip over this.

It was the lack of sound that alerted Cordelia in time.

Taking down her hair after an exhausting evening of polite conversation with Vor lords who had been very definitely neutral during the Pretendership, none of their vassals surely cut supply lines Milady, she could hear the servants moving through the family wing, clearing up for the next morning.

Hair down and shaken out to take the pressure off her neck, formal gown off and a robe wrapped around her for comfort and modesty, time to go check on the boys in their night nurseries.

Gregor had been dismissed to bed three hours earlier, after being paraded out at the start of the meal to welcome his guests and receive the loyalty toast. He would be cuddled up under his blankets, Steggie tight in his arms, fast asleep. Some nights he tried to stay awake to see Cordelia when she came by to tuck him in after a formal banquet, if something had worried him during the time he was present, but tonight he had trotted off rubbing surreptitiously at an eyeball with his fist as he got out the door and out of sight of the dining hall.

Miles, on the other hand, would be awake and babbling and looking for attention. At only 6 months old he had figured out that Parents came by to visit late at night and always had time to spend with him. It was terrible for his sleep patterns, but Cordelia refused to prevent any moments of quality time that she or Aral could find to spend with their son.

Cordelia peeped into Gregor’s nursery first. The nightlight threw shadows over the small face and the lump in the bed, as she walked over and smoothed out the hair over his forehead, tucked a stray foot back under the covers and pulled the top sheet straight. He was snoring a little, utterly exhausted from a long day and having to concentrate on being Emperor and Appropriately Grown Up that evening.

There was silence in the next room. Miles had clearly managed to send himself to sleep (Please. Let him finally be sleeping more than four hours at a time. Please. For everyone’s sake). She’d just look in on him then; she was not going to wake her son if he was actually asleep like he was supposed to be. The educational materials she had from Beta suggested that he was old enough to be able to sleep through the night, and it was so good to think of him hitting a normal milestone.

Cordelia walked through the doorway and looked down at her son, asleep in his crib.

Miles. Lying still in his crib. Squirmed up against the padding at the edge of his crib… why was there padding, that bolster should not be there, Miles’ head was against the bolster and HE WAS NOT MOVING...

Cordelia screamed once, and desperately started Infant CPR.

* * *

Captain Illyan stood before Regent Lord Aral Vorkosigan, report in his hand. Nobody had had any sleep. Aral, still half dressed in his red-and-blues looked up sharply from the screen he was reading, straight into Illyan’s eyes. The last time he had seen Aral so fired up… well. It was the last time Miles had almost died, still in his uterine replicator.

“The latest update from Dr Ritter is that they have stabilised his breathing. Cordelia cracked a couple of his ribs, and they’re monitoring to check they haven’t pierced anything they shouldn’t. They can’t check for brain damage yet, but he’s still moving around, which is apparently a good sign. Now. Tell me who did this to my son.”

“My Lord. We’ve done what we can, checking the camera angles over the doorways and windows. We don’t have footage from inside the nurseries.”

Aral sighed. “Cordelia’s argument seemed sound. They have guards checking on them constantly. We wanted to give the children what little privacy we could. I just… I didn’t expect an assassination attempt in their beds.” He looked down. “I was wrong.”

“The bolster was from the couch in the corner of Lord Miles’ nursery. Miss Droushnakovi looked in on him while escorting the Emperor to bed and Miles was asleep on his back, in the middle of the crib. Six people entered the rooms after the last time Miles appears in footage: Drou, Armsman Bothari, Armsman Morkov, Katya Pappas, the night nanny on duty, Dina Karal, a servant from the cleaning staff, and Cordelia herself. Everyone other than Cordelia is currently at ImpSec Headquarters and has now been put under fastpenta. We’ve had to sedate Armsman Bothari and lock him up.”

“Illyan. Stop prevaricating.” It was the Admiral’s voice.

"Dina Karal has confessed to putting the bolster in the crib. She said that she was told to, by a family member. That a healthy six month old babe would be safe and able to move away. She's still under questioning to determine exactly who gave her the instructions."

Aral's face appeared to be carven stone. "Karal. Karal… she's from the District, isn't she." It was not a question.

"Yes, sir."

A muscle jumped in Aral's jaw. His eyes stared over Illyan's shoulder, seemingly lost in memories.

"Put her in prison. There has to be a trial. She is not Miles' mother or a woman of my family; infanticide is illegal."

"My lord." Illyan stared at Aral, expressionless.

"We need to treat this like any other attack on a Count's heir."

"Forgive me, my lord, but Lord Miles is not your acknowledged heir. Count's choice. And the Count-your-father…"

Aral made a flicking gesture with his right hand, ending Illyan's words. "We have to, Captain. Because otherwise we have to treat this as an attack on the Regent's son. And that's too close to treating it like an attack on an Imperial Heir. Which Miles is not, and can never be. An attack on a Count's heir is bad enough. So. Trial. No accidents in holding cells. Warn your people."

"Yes, milord." Illyan started to calculate the duty roster of staff needed keep Dina Karal alive and safe in her cell.

"Thank you." It was a dismissal.

Illyan saluted and retreated quickly, closing the door behind him. As he left, he saw that Aral had dropped his head into one hand and was staring at the pictures set on the corner of his desk. One showed Lady Vorkosigan, dressed ready for a ball, standing with Lord Padma and Lady Alys in the foyer of Vorkosigan House, and another held Gregor, sitting proudly straight and so still, Miles propped up in his lap, his arms caging Miles' chest. It was the first time Gregor had been permitted to hold Miles, and there had been half dozen hovering Armsmen and nannies just out of shot. Gregor had insisted that he understood how careful he had to be, and Cordelia had backed him up. "Gregor understands that he needs to be careful. I'm not going to stop him from holding his foster brother."

Illyan stopped at Lieutenant Koudelka's desk just outside the office. Kou looked tired in his crisply pressed dress greens – he'd made it home and even into bed before the emergency alert had recalled Kou and Drou to the Residence. Listening to the information feed over his ear bug, Illyan realised that could at least give Kou some good news.

"My men are escorting Drou back to the Residence now. She's insisting on going straight to check on Gregor, even though we've told her he's still asleep."

"Thank you, Captain." The worry lines around Kou's eyes smoothed out slightly.

"Can you get him to go to bed?" Illyan asked, tilting his head towards the door. Kou frowned deeply.

"I've tried. He won't budge. I think he's going to work until he drops from exhaustion."

"Well, keep on it, Lieutenant."

* * *

Miles never looked smaller than when he was trapped in a cocoon of wires and metal rods and medical machinery. He was breathing steadily now; they still had a nasal cannula delivering positive air pressure to assist him, but he was able to breathe on his own. The Imperial Military Hospital had a permanent room set aside for her son; when the staff realised that the Regent's family would be based at the Imperial Residence for the foreseeable future, and that the Regent’s son would be needing regular treatment, both regular medical care for his conditions, and emergency care for accidents.

There was a bed tucked in the corner of the room, for Cordelia’s use. She’d slept on it often enough, these past six months. Tonight, though, she stayed in her chair beside Miles, willing him to keep breathing. If she was watching, she would be there to call for help if needed.

Yes, he was plastered with bugs and alarms that would go off at any hint of a missed breath or heartbeat.

Tonight had still been too close a call. Cordelia's breath matched the struggling rise and fall of Miles' chest.

She knew she had responsibilities. She would need to reassure Gregor when he woke, to go be his foster mother and explain what had happened while trying to prevent him from realising that there had been an assassination attempt right beside his bedroom.

But for now? She would sit here with her son, watching as he continued to fight to live.

He was so small. It was so unfair.

* * *

Further interrogation had given them nothing bar whispers of words from relatives, mutant prejudice and a conviction that a strong, healthy babe would survive.

The Karals were Vorkosigan vassals. Dendarii Hillmen. They had fought with the General during the Cetagandan Invasion and Ezar's Rebellion.

It was a publicly-deniable assassination plot; another attempt from his father to force Aral's hand for a better heir.

Worse, he'd used a woman for it. Remind the Council exactly where the traditional responsibility for protecting the family line lay. And he'd done it inside the Residence; inside the one place he should not have had supreme influence, that should have been most safe for the Regent and his family.

Gregor would be having nightmares for weeks. Drou had already agreed to alter shifts so that she could stay with him through the night; he had been clingy and pale and scared-looking since Aral and Cordelia had sat him down and carefully, carefully explained that Miles was in hospital again because someone had tried to hurt him. They had tried to reinforce that Gregor himself was in no danger; but how do you convince a six year old that nobody is planning to hurt him when the last time something like this occurred, his mother had died?

Gregor wouldn't be alone in having nightmares. Aral had failed to protect his only son. The-Count-his-Father had once again moved around the restrictions he had placed on him, had ignored the oath-stalemate over whose hands were between whose, and struck again at Miles.

If allowed a third attempt, Aral couldn't be sure Piotr would miss again.

* * *

The Council of Counts was currently sitting, so Piotr Vorkosigan was in Vorbarr Sultana.

Aral and Cordelia went to Vorkosigan House, taking Armsman Bothari with them. Their travel teams were left at the gate. There was no need for anyone else to witness this; it was an internal Vorkosigan matter.

Captain Illyan was stuck at his desk in Cockroach Central, putting aside actual urgent concerns to oversee the ImpSec security teams covering both Vorkosigan House and the Regent and wife. He'd promised not to interfere but, well… he'd seen that look in Aral's eye before. He remembered it from the _General Vorhartung_ , from security footage of Komarr. He'd seen that curl of rage in Cordelia's face as she had upended a shopping bag in front of Aral and stopped a war.

Guarding the genome. Cleaning the gene pool, more likely.

Several hours later, medical teams were urgently called by an Armsman to Vorkosigan House. The Count has had a heart attack, was the report. Illyan allowed them through the perimeter, knowing it was already too late.

Illyan made his way over to the Residence, ensuring he was in place to meet the returning Regent. Aral still had a set look in his eye as he and Cordelia swept through the entrance, heading straight for the children's rooms. Miles had been transferred back the Residence earlier that day under strict guard. He was still on supplemental oxygen, but the hospital staff thought he had escaped without noticeable brain damage. He was babbling away to whoever came into his line of sight.

Cordelia and Aral slowed down just long enough to allow Illyan to open the door for them when they reached the nurseries. He let them through then leant back against the wall beside the doorway, quickly cataloguing where everything was in the room. Gregor was cuddled up to Drou, who was reading him a story, but abandoned the book to run straight for Cordelia and throw his arms around her waist. Aral ducked through the door into the next room and soon emerged with Miles tucked carefully in his arms, facing outward so he could keep track of everything going on in the room.

Cordelia pulled Gregor down to sit with her on the rug in the centre of the room, arranging her skirts so he could lean up against her side. Aral sat down opposite them, supporting Miles to sit in front of him against a hitched-in knee, the oxygen tubes trailing over his lap back to the canister behind him.

Aral looked at Gregor solemnly. “I am so sorry you’ve been afraid. This is your home, where you should be safe, and I know it hasn’t felt that way these last few days.

“But my home is not a place, Gregor. It is the people around me. It’s Cordelia, and it is Miles here, and it is you. As your Regent, it is my duty to care for the Imperium for you until you come of age. But as your foster father, it is my duty to keep you safe and loved.”

“We love you, Gregor, and we promise we will do whatever we have to to keep this family safe,” said Cordelia, pulling him in closer with one arm for a hug. “So please don’t worry about Miles any more. You two will be safe.”

Illyan watched as Gregor pulled away from Cordelia, sliding forward on his knees and offering a hand out to Miles. Miles grabbed hold firmly and started tugging on Gregor’s fingers, singing various sounds quietly to himself. “Hey there Miles. You’re okay?”

“He’s okay,” said Aral. “He’s going to be sore for a while, but we’re all used to being careful with Miles, aren’t we? Our family is here; and we know how to survive whatever comes for us.”

* * *

Three weeks later the Imperium tries Dina Karal for attempted murder of a Vor lord. There is no mention of any plot.

House Vorkosigan is still in mourning blacks for the passing of the late Count. The trial goes swiftly and with few remarks from anyone; the most ImpSec hears is a few mutters about how bad the Vorkosigan luck is, with all of this coming at once.

* * *

Some four years and two daughters later, the Council of Counts confirmed Miles Naismith Vorkosigan as Lord Vorkosigan, Count's Choice.


End file.
